


sappho in repose

by tribunal



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Date Night, F/F, Girls Kissing, girls loving girls loving girls baybeee, just some lesbians in love!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 18:47:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17513972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tribunal/pseuds/tribunal
Summary: For all the confidence the both of them exude in their work life, coming home to one another and this new tenderness, facing this unexpected softness, it's...odd. Not unpleasant by any means, but having someone not related by blood to turn to for comfort, it's...new.New's nice, they're both discovering.Girls loving girls against the possible backdrop of apocalypse, a collection of drabbles, some related and others not.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is where i'm putting all my frey/joey and frey/faith things until my plate is clear enough for another larger fic.
> 
> for a sentence prompt: "Ask me if I'm okay. Just ask."

Exhausted weight sinks into the plushness of the living room couch, weary sigh as though Hudson--Joey--holds the world's weight emerging from her as though punched out. She shifts her arm to cover her eyes, one leg kicking on the couch while the other dangles, uselessly, off the side.

"Bad day?" For once, Frey's voice isn't mocking as she wanders out the kitchen. "Dinner's on." Her teeth come out to pinch, worry at her lower lip. For all the confidence the both of them exude in their work life, coming home to one another and this new tenderness, facing this unexpected softness, it's...odd. Not unpleasant by any means, but having someone not related by blood to turn to for comfort, it's...new.

New's nice, they're both discovering.

"Food helps." Frey continues, one hand delving into relaxed black tresses, newly detangled from hefty braids. "Can't think about whatever's bothering you if you're too stuffed to even move."

Hudson doesn't stir, arm still draped over her eyes, blocking whatever facial expression she's making from Frey's keen eye.

"Please eat." Because it's all she has, all she knows to offer. Love is a curious thing, better shown in one's actions than said in words. She can give Joey food, can offer her a place to rest her head and an ear to pour her grievances into. She can romance her with fine things, ply pretty words from her, but is is the here and now in how she shows affection, in how Frey hands it out urgently.

Joey considers, slides her hands down her face, seeking succor in the action where there is none to be gleaned. Her inhalation is deep, shaky, and she forces her breath to still before she tries it again, can feel the welling-up of unshed tears collecting in her eyes. Absolutely not. Not in front of Frey, not even if she was alone.

 **"Ask me if I'm okay. Just ask."** Joey's voice sounds wobbly to even her own ears. She can't see, but Frey clenches that fist in her hair just a bit harder, eyes widening.

"Not gonna ask. You'll tell me when you need to, when you can." She lays a hand over the backs of Joey's, still covering her eyes. "Come on. I got a cobbler in the fridge. Don't make me eat it alone."

And because Hudson is an excellent cop, she can read between the lines, pulls herself from the couch, follows Frey to the kitchen, leans her weight into the smaller woman.

The cobbler's amazing, but the fact that this woman cares so deeply for her tastes even better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another sentence request, this one being "I let you win". something quick and cutesy because I'm terribly out of practice. c:

Living room door shudders with the force of Frey's excitement, freshly dip-dyed strands of white hair escaping her too-meticulous bun in frizzy strands. If Joey was romantic in the traditional sort of way, she'd wax poetic, think to herself how it looks somewhat kinda like a halo, court Frey with the words she always feels she lacks.

Her tongue sticks in her throat a lot around Frey, funny thing. She feels like she's back to being in high school and just discovering she thinks girls are _just neat_ again, all red-faced and biting of bottom lip. Maybe the thought that Frey's _too pretty_ to be with her crosses her mind every so often, but her partner--her girlfriend--banishes that with her touch, presses her forehead against the taller woman, kisses the corner of her mouth.

Joey melts. Every damn time.

So when Frey bursts in the house, just buzzing with energy, Joey bookmarks her passage--a book she hadn't really been paying attention to for the past chapter anyways--and leans forward, elbows on knees. "All good?"

And, oh, how's she supposed to be a hardass on the job when Frey's smile shatters any possible barrier the Deputy would've put up between her and that unforgiving world outside their own little bubble? It's just a hair short of manic, pinching honey brown eyes and hitching those cheekbones up, up, up. "Better than good!" She assures, flicking out two indecipherable tickets to wave under Hudson's nose, tongue tick, tick, ticking behind her teeth. And Hudson--Joey--doesn't ask, just slings her arm around Frey, huffs out an "alright", and ignores the effect her girlfriend's tinkling laughter has on her.

Big mistake. She ought to be telling herself this constantly, never get sucked into that laughter, the crinkle of her nose, those _dimples_. This one's absolutely the fault of the dimples, it's just a sad fact. Only reason Joey's let Frey hustle her so thoroughly, allowed herself to be pulled into the lowly-lit arcade Frey was only too excited to drag her to.

"Honeycomb," She gives her so many nicknames after food. The single time Joey asked, Frey waggled her eyebrows and said something along the lines of 'because I just _loooove_ eating you'. If Joey thinks about it too hard, even a year after, her face'll heat up and Frey will just _know_ , belly-laughing so hard and clapping her hands on her mouth entirely too late. "Love you dearly, but goddamn, you are bad at games!"

Yeah, big bad Hudson with her badge and belt got demolished in air hockey. But damn if her pride'll allow her to say it. Out loud? In front of everyone? Not likely.

So she snorts, eyebrows canting in an unaffected look. " **I let you win.** " And Frey rolls her eyes, leaning into Joey with her hands wrapped around one bicep.

"Sure you did, sweetness."


End file.
